Tip Me Over and Pour Me Out
by ktface3
Summary: What exactly was in that damned Christmas card? We'll know now that I've changed the plot of that epsiode. Relies heavily an a certain romantic epic now out in theaters, which I don't own. I don't own the Office either... just on DVD. Now complete?
1. The Mistake

_A/N: God help me. I saw Atonement over the weekend (which was amazing, by the way, thanks for asking) and I just couldn't help myself. Was it worth posting?... I didn't have an answer to that, but perhaps you might. Granted, this will probably turn out nothing like Atonement if I continue, but isn't that the point of these fanfics? Tell me what you want to see! Enjoy._

* * *

He had bought a whole package of Christmas cards just for the occasion. Several of them were strewn about his bed with different renderings of what exactly he wanted to say to her, most of them written in fleeting moments of senselessness. He had even written on one all the fantasies he entertained of her when he was alone in his bed at night, his eyes shut tight in concentration as his hands supplemented his erotic imagination. As soon as he had put it on paper he scoffed and had thrown it across the bed. 

Finally, he came to the last card, and so he began to write a culmination of everything else he had written on the eleven cards before this one, and he smiled to himself as he read it over. He was going to finally tell her how exactly he felt, and this was the perfect way to do it; he even had bonus gifts for her for God's sakes.

He was amazed no one had noticed his flop sweat during the reckless game of Yankee Swap they had played earlier; that card inside the box contained his deepest, darkest feelings for the curly-haired,_engaged_, receptionist, and he knew if anyone other than her had read it, he would have no choice but to move to Singapore. He didn't do well in warm climates—after all, he lived in Pennsylvania—so needless to say he was overjoyed when she later brought out the white box containing his teapot gift for her to show him how she had traded for it.

She explained something to him about how her ass-hat of a fiancée was getting her an iPod, but he could hardly hear her over his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Maybe this wasn't the best time to tell her how he felt… He reached for the envelope. But then again…_To hell with it_, he thought to himself. _Let her read it._ He walked away from her desk slowly and hesitantly, second-guessing himself about if he had made the right choice. The Christmas festivities went on as usual.

He drunkenly plopped himself down onto his bed, still littered with rough drafts of his letter. She hadn't said anything to him at Poor Richard's, which to him implied that she had yet to find it precariously perched on a wall of the box. He absent-mindedly opened one of his reject proclamations of undying love and devotion and began to read, but then found something particularly odd about this card. Namely, it was the one that was supposed to be inside the envelope.

_Oh. Shit._

He frantically scrambled for the other cards, glancing at every one to see which drafts he hadn't accidentally given her, and by the time he had read all the other eleven in triplicate, he finally realized which one she had. As luck would have it, his cell phone began to vibrate in his pants as a faint melody played. The song grew louder as he pulled the device out and grimaced at the caller ID. He flipped open the phone like he was pulling a trigger.

"Hey.." he managed to stammer, knowing he'd have to get online to look for a plane ticket to Asia soon enough.

"Jim—um, hey. I have a question… Uh, along with the teapot—What was with the card you gave me?"

His cheeks were burning and his stomach was inside of his throat. How could he talk his way out of this one? "I'm sorry, you… weren't meant to see that. It was the wrong version."

"What—what was in the right one?" The question caught him completely off-guard. Surely she would be chastising him at this point for telling her all his corrupted thoughts, and he wondered if he was blacking out from too much hard liquor. Maybe, after all the years of pining and needing and dreaming of her, she would finally express those same feelings of him, and all he needed to do was read the correct letter to her. It was a very, "you show me yours, I'll show you mine" situation.

He struggled for any words to escape from his mouth, "It was—"

And then he was saved, both from having to say the words out loud and from the merciless tension that was ever looming over their torrid relationship. He was always impressed with her way of taking the edge off their conversations, and this one was no exception. As simply and as sharply as she could, she quipped, "Not so… anatomical?"

He rubbed his heavy eyelids and wondered if their exchanges would always steer clear of every awkward topic in the book.

* * *

_Seriously, go see Atonement. It's ricockulous.  
_


	2. The Response

_A/N: Alright, so I wasn't going to do a second chapter. I figured if people saw the movie they would get it and if not then oh well. But there was an outcry (by three of you I think) for me to resolve it, and so I came up with this on the fly. I like my resolution, and I hope it's enough for all of you cause this is the last chapter of it. Enjoy._

* * *

The New Year had come and gone as customary as possible, and now it was once again time to return to the head-bangingly monotonous days of work. To say it was awkward to work ten feet away from the girl he had just confessed all his fantasies to would be a gross understatement; however, the words ungainly and cumbersome did come to mind, especially when she wanted to talk to him… which seemed to be a lot.

Was she always this way? Or had he never noticed how needy she was just because he was always ecstatic to talk to her? At any rate, she did eventually trap him in the break room when he innocently went in for a soda, and so all he could do was try not to choke on his own saliva and listen to what she was trying to say to him.

"I just wanted to thank you again, for—the teapot. And all the other little gifts too."

"Oh. Yeah. I'm really glad you liked them."

"Yeah, I really did." He was nearly blinded by her responsive smile, which seemed to be putting out thousands of megawatts of power. He couldn't help but kick himself for the unbelievably stupid mistake of giving her the wrong Christmas card, because any hope that he had for their fairytale ending was dashed with the realization of what he had done. All he was capable of doing now was to smile and nod, and patiently wait out the rest of his days pining after the unattainable.

"Well, I should get back…" he told her after several moments of deafening silence.

"Oh, wait! I forgot to give this to you—" She handed him a small card sealed in a white envelope, much like the one he had given her. He tried to remain stoic as he casually glanced at the letter and then at her. "Merry late Christmas… It's no teapot, but—"

"Please, I already got my secret Santa gift: a raggy old sweater from Creed, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Hah. Now you'll fit right in if you ever visit Dwight's farm—"

"Right." He could sense a lull in the conversation again and so he decided to make his quick escape. "See ya out there."

"Yep," she called back as he hurriedly made his way back to his desk. He ignored whatever snide remark Dwight had just made to him and fumbled open the envelope, revealing a card with a snowy scene with a horse drawn carriage.

Inside, the letter simply read:

_Jim-_

_My dreams of you are much more risqué._

_-Pam_

He caught his breath as he dared to look at the seemingly innocuous receptionist who had just made her way back to her desk. She went about her business as normal, and he couldn't help but see that she still had an engagement ring around the finger on her left hand. Obviously his letter hadn't deterred her from her ultimate goal of marriage, even if it was to a ball sac like Roy, but her reply certainly had lifted his spirits a little, among other things. All in all, his mistake wasn't as immense as he had thought it to be, and it wasn't anything he had to move to Singapore over. He covertly slipped the letter into a pocket of his messenger bag and wondered if it was too ornate of him to frame it.

* * *

_Eh? And the story resumes with Booze Cruise. Go watch that._


End file.
